


As True As The Sea Is

by fiercynn



Category: Merlin (BBC)
Genre: Cave-In, First Time, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-07-19
Updated: 2010-07-19
Packaged: 2017-10-10 16:07:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,741
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/101592
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fiercynn/pseuds/fiercynn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Caves, Arthur thought sourly, half-holding Merlin up as they ran, were never a good idea.</p>
            </blockquote>





	As True As The Sea Is

**Author's Note:**

  * For [veverghede](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=veverghede).



> Originally posted [here](http://fiercynn.livejournal.com/47116.html). Title from "I'll Cover You" from _Rent_. Spoilers for the first season.

Caves, Arthur thought sourly, half-holding Merlin up as they ran, were _never_ a good idea.

"What _was_ that?" he hissed as they rounded a corner. "Another Questing Beast?"

"I thought there was only the one," Merlin gasped, hobbling from the bite the creature had bestowed on his leg. Arthur swore under his breath and pulled Merlin's arm tighter across his shoulders, clutching his waist like a vice. The cave walls shuddered around them as they heard the beast's roar.

Merlin stumbled and fell, dragging Arthur halfway down with him. "Sorry, sorry," Merlin panted, "it _stings_ –" He tried to stand and sank back down, wincing.

"Don't think about the pain," Arthur said, determined, and somehow they managed to get Merlin up and moving again. The cave hadn't seemed nearly as long when they'd come in hunting for – Arthur could barely remember what their original reason was, actually.

It seemed as if they were almost to the entrance when Merlin came to a halt, groaning, and said, "I can't," and Arthur said, "Of course you can, you idiot," and then Merlin looked up and yelled in panic, _wrenching_ his arm out of Arthur's grip and pushing Arthur away from him so hard that he actually lurched back, and before he could recover his balance, the roof of the cave smashed down between them.

"Merlin!" Arthur shouted.

For a heart-stopping moment, Arthur couldn't hear or see a thing from the other side, rocks still tumbling down, and he called again, panic bubbling up in his throat because Merlin couldn't die, not like _this_, killed by ordinary rocks in a bloody cave where Arthur couldn't even reach him –

"Arthur!" came Merlin's voice through the rubble, hoarse but clearly alive. "Are you alright?"

"Yes," said Arthur, relief washing over him for a brief moment, "are you?"

"Yeah, but –"

And Arthur could tell from the tone of his voice that Merlin was about to say something he wouldn't like, something supremely idiotic and self-sacrificing, and he let out a frustrated breath as Merlin said, "Arthur, I can't get through. You have to leave."

"Don't be stupid, Merlin," Arthur told him. "I'm not going anywhere without you. Come on, find a way then."

"I can't lift any of these, they're too heavy – and my leg – Arthur, it's coming, so please just _go!_"

"You don't need to lift them with your hands," Arthur gritted out even as he scrambled to get rocks aside, just in case. "You have another way. Use it."

"What?" said Merlin faintly.

Arthur could tell the beast must be getting closer because everything was shaking, spilling down pebbles in vicious torrents around them, and he clenched his fists in anger. "Come on, Merlin, you bastard," he spat, "of all times to pretend – just use your fucking magic, or – or you'll be the one who gets _me_ killed, because I'm _not leaving_, do you understand?"

Another uncertain moment, years long, maybe decades, and then the stones blasted aside with a force that surprised him, and Merlin, covered in dirt, face screwed up in pain, coughed out, "That's not _fair_," as Arthur hauled him through.

"Wait," said Merlin weakly as Arthur tried to drag him forward, and he whispered a strange, foreign word that brought the rocks crashing back together behind them, forming an even denser wall between them and the beast.

"There," said Merlin, satisfied, "it won't be able to get through that," and fainted.

*

Arthur had to carry him the rest of the way out to the grove where their horses were tied. Merlin was still unconscious, but Arthur didn't want to risk being around if the cave creature did eventually escape and come looking for them. Somehow he managed to get Merlin onto his horse to rest in front of him, using one hand to hold the reins of Merlin's horse, and the other to simultaneously lead his own and hold up Merlin's limp body to lean against his chest.

"See, this is what happens when you're so stubborn," he remarked, because even if Merlin didn't hear him, Arthur would have no problem chewing him out all over again when he awoke. "I'm the one who has to deal with you afterwards."

Which was not the way it should be, really. Merlin was supposed to serve Arthur, not cause him more trouble than he already had. If Uther could hear his son just now, he would have been furious at the subversion of Arthur's power and privilege, because a prince wasn't supposed to care so much about his manservant's well-being, and certainly not enough to risk his own life over, and over.

But Arthur had managed to purge his father's voice from his mind long ago, at least when it came to Merlin. He didn't – couldn't let himself think about how or why he'd allowed Merlin through so many barriers with such ease, because there were some secrets that Arthur desperately tried to keep even from himself.

They rode through the forest for about an hour and a half before the sky began to darken, and Merlin still had not recovered. They wouldn't make it back to Camelot tonight, then; they hadn't even come half the distance by traveling this slowly. Arthur sighed and found a place to stop for the night, lifting Merlin down and spreading out a bedroll for him to lie on.

Arthur took some time to gather wood for a fire later on, but he was sure not to stray very far from where Merlin lay. They hadn't brought much food for the day's outing, but Arthur didn't want to leave Merlin alone to try and hunt anything for them, and anyway it would soon be useless in this light. Fortunately they still had water in their gourds, so he resigned himself to wetting his throat with a few sips, munching on a single strip of dried meat, and watching Merlin.

Merlin's clothes were still quite filthy, Arthur realized, coated with grime from the fall-in, and he took a moment to dust off his trousers and jacket until they were slightly more acceptable. Merlin's face was dirty, too; and Arthur couldn't help himself, had to gently brush his hand over Merlin's cheeks, thumbing at the streaks of dust down the side of his nose, and, after hesitating for a long moment, smooth dark hair off of his forehead. He was warm – too warm – and Arthur frowned, his hand still resting on Merlin's now-feverish brow.

That, of course, was exactly when Merlin chose to wake up.

"Arthur?" he croaked out, and Arthur withdrew his hand hurriedly, but Merlin was too busy coughing to notice. Merlin tried to sit up, and Arthur put a hand on his back to help. After a moment, though, Merlin blinked and sank back down, breathing heavily. "Dizzy," he explained, "and it hurts."

And damned if Arthur hadn't forgotten the bite entirely. He cursed himself – and he called _Merlin_ an idiot – repeatedly, as he used his belt-knife to cut Merlin's trouser leg off at the knee and examine the wound. It was a nasty bite, not very deep, but puffed up around the edges and sporting too many bizarre colors for Arthur's peace of mind, not to mention all the tiny pieces of rock and sand embedded in it. He gave Merlin his gourd to drink before pouring a little water on the wound and cleaning it as thoroughly as he could, then wrapped the cleanest part of the trouser cloth around it tightly.

"Thanks," Merlin said, white with pain but heartfelt, when Arthur had finished and sat back on his heels, looking down at him. "For everything."

Arthur shifted uncomfortably. "Well, you certainly didn't make it easy. If you'd listened to me sooner we may not have had quite so hard a time."

The half-smile on Merlin's face vanished, and he looked anxious and guilty and apprehensive all in one. Arthur regretted his words for a moment until he remembered that yes, he was _supposed_ to be angry, not only for Merlin's idiocy and pigheadedness in the cave, but also because Merlin had lied to him, for _ages_. Betrayed him, Uther would have said. It was another thing that Arthur didn't let himself think about, usually, but right now it was clear that he should be furious.

"You knew all along, then," Merlin asked eventually, turning his head away slightly.

"Not all along, but long enough." Arthur gave a bitter snort. "Did you really think I was that oblivious?"

"I hoped you were," Merlin admitted, pain and exhaustion making him too frank, but his pale, drawn face and the way he was beginning to shiver meant that somehow, Arthur couldn't find it in himself to be upset.

"You're cold," he said instead. "The bite must be infected." Maybe poisoned, he didn't say, but Merlin could probably work that out for himself.

Merlin blinked up at him, then gestured towards the pile of wood. "I'd help, but –"

"I'll do it," Arthur informed him. It was a welcome distraction, gathering the wood together, fetching flint from his saddlebag. But the logs he had found were distressingly damp, and the kindling wasn't able to set it alight.

"I tried to tell you once," Merlin said suddenly as Arthur struggled. "Well, twice." He sighed. "A thousand times, really."

Arthur chanced a look over his shoulder. Merlin was staring up at the canopy, distant. "Why didn't you?" Arthur asked, not sure if he really wanted the answer.

"I don't really know anymore," Merlin admitted. "At first from fear of what you'd do, then because I didn't want to put you in the position of betraying the king, I guess. But really it just got harder and harder to say anything when I'd been silent for so long. I think I was hoping you'd find out accidentally, or figure it out yourself, but now I don't know if that made it any easier."

Arthur struck at the flint viciously, but it didn't seem to help any more. "Do you wish I didn't know, then?"

"No," Merlin said immediately, surprised. "No, of course not."

Arthur kept his eyes trained on his task, silent, until Merlin said, "The wood's too wet, isn't it? Bring it over here and I can at least dry it."

"You don't have enough energy."

Merlin grinned. "This one I've perfected. At the rate you expect your clothes to be dried, I had to."

Arthur gave in and watched as Merlin wrapped his long fingers around each log, muttering under his breath, his eyes flashing gold in a way that made Arthur's heart skip a beat every time he saw it. He wasn't sure he'd every be able to get used to that – the strangeness of it all, but more because the strangeness was in someone so familiar that Arthur had almost begun to think of him as part of himself. It was as if he had looked down at his sword and seen the blade shimmer with that eerie light and unfathomable power, even while knowing that it would do what he needed it to.

Merlin handed Arthur the wood; it was warm, bark crumbling beneath his fingers, and he set about making the fire again. This time the wood flared up as easily as Merlin's eyes, and Arthur knew then that he would get used to it, not only because he had to but because he wanted to _understand_ the secrets beneath Merlin's skin that made them, like the fire, so dangerous and beautiful at the same time.

"Why didn't you ever say anything?" Merlin asked, light from the face playing off of his face so that Arthur couldn't see his expression properly.

"I don't know," Arthur replied, only realizing that the words were true as he said them. "Maybe for the same reasons as you, really. Though you still should have told me."

"Yeah," said Merlin softly. "I should have."

*

Merlin dozed off again, but he slept so fitfully that Arthur watched him the whole time. Not that there was very much else to do. When he awoke, it was completely dark, and the fire was burning lower as Arthur tried to conserve their wood.

"Ugh," said Merlin, blinking rapidly and squirming in a way that made Arthur's breath hitch for moment. "Oh, it's _cold_."

"It's nighttime," Arthur informed him.

"Oh thank you, your m-majesty," Merlin shot back, sarcasm diluted by his trembling. Arthur frowned; he'd already draped all the blankets they had over Merlin's sleeping form. He took off his jacket and placed it on him as well.

"Don't be stupid," said Merlin. "You'll f-freeze. I can still manage a bit of a warmth spell, alright?" Before Arthur could protest, he murmured the words and a soft glow emerged from underneath Merlin's blanket, throwing out heat and just a little more light.

"Merlin!" Arthur snapped, even though he had been on the verge of shivering himself.

"Huh, you must be really worried to be like this," said Merlin. Though he was warm, the magic had clearly taken away even more energy, and he sounded exhausted. He gave Arthur a weak smile. "How bad do I look, then?"

"No uglier than usual," Arthur said tartly, and Merlin choked out a laugh.

That wasn't the half of it, though; Merlin's dark hair and skin even paler than usual brought out his sky-high cheekbones, the sharp edges of his chin, his mouth parted ever so slightly as he tried to breathe. Arthur had to blink sometimes when he looked at him, to make sure that Merlin was still alive and real instead of an ethereal, fragile figment of Arthur's imagination.

The glow began to fade after only ten minutes or so, and even the fire had burned down to embers. Arthur looked at it with regret, but even though he didn't want to admit it, he was too tired to even think about poking around in the dark. Merlin was certainly in no condition for anything, beginning to shiver again even as his brow gleamed with sweat.

"You haven't slept at all, have you," he asked, reproachful, and Arthur didn't bother to lie. Merlin shook his head. "Well, come on, then."

"There's no need –" Arthur started.

"Look, I'm freezing too, it's mutually beneficial. Besides, if you don't sleep now, how on earth will you be able to drag me home tomorrow?"

"Unhappily," Arthur grumbled, but he dragged his bedroll over to Merlin and lay down. Merlin tossed the edge of his blanket over Arthur's legs, and his knees knocked into Arthur's with his shudders.

Arthur could still feel some of the left-over glow warmth as his fingertips brushed Merlin's. "Is this the kind of thing you use it for, then?" he couldn't help but ask. "Simple tasks?"

"They're not simple when you have to do ten at the same time," Merlin retorted, his breath puffing into Arthur's neck. "And yes, maybe half, but the other half is usually to protect you."

"_Me?_" said Arthur, affronted. "I don't need to be protected!"

"Tell that to all the sorcerers that come after you at least three times a week, then." And Arthur had to admit he had a point there.

"That's not even the worst of it, though."

"What is?" said Arthur, distracted by the slow shift of Merlin's thigh against his own, a sparking of cloth against cloth under the blankets. Merlin probably had no idea he was doing it, damn him.

"You _trying_ so hard to get yourself killed," Merlin said seriously. "Especially every time you save me without watching out for yourself."

"As if you aren't just as bad. Worse."

"Yes, but you're the prince," Merlin said as if that made it perfectly reasonable. "And I'm your servant and friend and a _sorcerer_."

"I don't think dying for me is in your job description," said Arthur, wishing Merlin could see enough of him to throw out a reassuring smirk.

Merlin didn't take the bait. "Arthur, you have a duty to stay alive, for the kingdom. You know that."

You have that duty too, Arthur wanted to tell him, but not only for the kingdom.

Instead he said, "I owe you my life many times over, Merlin. I must repay that."

Because that was the safe answer, the one that everyone could understand, and Merlin, in his state of illness, should have been able to leave it at that. But being Merlin, he still saw deeper, delving into every reason; slowly taking Arthur apart until he was no longer sure he wanted to be put back together.

"I'm sure other people have died for you before," Merlin murmured, half-asleep.

It wasn't a question, but it still required an answer that Arthur didn't want to give. Merlin was like that; too curious, unwittingly dangerous to Arthur's sanity. And apparently it had already broken apart and floated away, because Arthur's mouth was dry and his throat had clenched and he wanted to say something – anything.

Somehow, he managed to hold the words back, until Merlin had been so quiet and restful beside him that Arthur was sure he must be asleep. "Well, Merlin," he whispered then, letting his own deathly secret escape into the dark. "You're not other people."

*

In the morning Merlin was delirious, his blankets soaked with sweat. The next few hours went by in a torturous haze for Arthur as they rode even more slowly than the day before, Merlin slumped in front of him and mumbling incoherently. Once he stirred so fitfully that he almost fell off the horse, and Arthur was barely able to catch Merlin and draw him to his chest to keep him upright, unstable himself.

By the time they reached Camelot, Arthur was bone-weary. He managed to get Merlin to Gaius' chambers and stayed there long enough describe the monster to the physician, before returning to his room and collapsing himself.

Merlin was in bed for the next three days, asleep for most of it, in which time Arthur had managed to recover his sleep and explain the story to his father in a way that left out all the treasonous bits. He stopped by Gaius' rooms every so often, though it made him feel more frustrated than anything, even when Merlin's breathing became less labored and his fever came down.

He was mostly awake by the third day which was when Arthur stopped dropping by to check on him – no need to let Merlin know how bad it had really been by seeming worried. So he had no idea how much Merlin had recovered until he came to see Arthur on the evening of the fourth day.

Arthur had been finishing off the dregs of his wine from dinner, lost in thought, when Merlin opened the door and entered. He still looked tired and too thin for Arthur's liking, but his skin was back to its _usual_ pale hue, and his eyes were bright and alive, and somehow questioning.

"Took your time, didn't you," Arthur said, trying not to let his relief show, at all. "I might have to cut your wages for this."

"You don't really pay me that much anyway," Merlin reminded him, bracing one hand on the table for support. Arthur couldn't help but look over him, concerned despite himself, until Merlin caught his gaze and held it, something compelling and curious in his eyes.

"You – Arthur, you said something, that night," he said haltingly. "And I –"

"I don't remember what I said," Arthur cut him off, hardly caring what exactly Merlin meant. It was too much now to think back to any of those moments, to be reminded of the spare honesty that came with danger and darkness. Better to leave them for the past, let the night wrap up the secrets and hide them away for safekeeping, because this, this Arthur still wanted to keep locked in the realm of denial.

Merlin frowned. "You didn't even know what I was going to –"

"Does it really matter, Merlin?" Arthur pushed his dishes away, sitting on the edge of his bed to remove his boots. "You've recovered from a poisonous attack, and I know about your secret abilities, and somehow we're alive despite all of it – how could you want more?"

He didn't want to look at Merlin's face and see any bewilderment there at his words – because really, Arthur's words were meant for himself, his warning to remember how to keep his guard up. Everything was good, at least good enough. If he looked at Merlin, he would realize that Merlin had no idea what he was talking about, and that would somehow make it even worse.

"But I do," said Merlin.

"Do what?"

"Want more," Merlin said softly. "And I thought – well – I thought you –"

"Thought I what?" Arthur said, more quietly, barely enough to hear over the pounding in his ears.

Merlin stepped towards him, stilling Arthur's hand on the boot with his own. Arthur started down resolutely at Merlin's fingers, crossing over his, hard to tell where one ended and another began, no longer knowing what it would look like if one half were taken away.

"I thought - you wouldn't be this much of an idiot," Merlin said finally, and Arthur had barely looked up at him in confusion before Merlin took Arthur's face in his hands and kissed him.

Merlin broke away after another moment, out of breath, and Arthur stared. "Don't pretend you didn't want that," Merlin told him, but there was still a waver of doubt in his voice and a slight flush in his cheeks.

Arthur gave a surprised huff of a laugh and shook his head, unable to understand this but not willing to let it slip away either. He leaned in, still hesitant, and Merlin met him halfway, his mouth lush and yearning, tipping into him as Arthur's hands came to tug at his waist. Merlin was shaking again, and Arthur thought that was as good a reason as any to pull Merlin down into his lap, holding him close and pressing another kiss to Merlin's upper lip before tilting their foreheads together.

"You know," he said conversationally, trying to keep a smile from flooding his voice, "there are people that would have you put in the stocks for calling the crown prince an idiot."

"Yeah, well," Merlin said, breathless and happy, golden truth shining out his eyes, alive and magic and so much more, "you're not other people."


End file.
